Summat English

I just recently checked the translative system on this site.
Google-translate sucks.
So I decided, for the few people who aren't adept at Dutch, to write summat en Anglais.

Spring is upon us, which probably explains why I still have to wait 3 friggin' months 'till I can rock out at festivals.
I want to be there already!
Yet sadly time chains me, always.
It's like fishing: I have to wait and wait and wait... Untill I hook a fish. Then the fish slips away at the last second and my bait is gone, till next year.
Yes....... that was  in fact metaphoric.
The fish being the sound of the bands, the bait being the festival and the fishing being the ENDLESS waiting in between festivals.
Cause you can only buy so much bait.
It's like buying liquor, buy too much of it and you'll throw up after.
But I'm straying offcourse here.
We were discussing spring and festivals.
Springtime is a season in which hormones get the best of us and by so doing a period in which we are extremely horny and craving for music and attention.
So what better then festivals you'd say?
Well...... most of 'em are in summer.
So you'd have to save that horniness and that craving for sound for approximately 3 months, if not more.

Ofcourse there's always distractions, such as: work and school.
But they can only keep you busy for so long.
So here's the dilemma: how to endure the endless wait?

Let your mind drift, if you will.
To a stage that bears one of your favoured bands.
You lie atop a hillside to it's left.
Sun shines her warm rays of light upon you as you chill out with a beer in your hand.
The band is flawless live.
It's heavenl.
It's salvation.
A soft breeze blows over you.
Wiping the few drops of sweat you may have had on your forehead.
You open your eyes.
Your eyes grant you a diagonal view of the bands.
The guitarist shreds like a lumberjack with a chainsaw.
And the singer's voice echoes above the treble of the massive solo.
High and sweet, like an angel's choir.
You take sip of your beer.
One sip of that sweet bitter, mixing with the divine sound of the band.

Then the sky darkens and your hilltop (alias chill-out) dissolves.
You tumble into a dark hole and the sound fades to naught.
With a bonebreaking thud you slam to the floor of the office your work at.
You open your eyes and see a pair of shoes that closes in dangerously.
Goddammit! The airconditioning is still down!
And the paperwork piles up like rugby-players launching themselves at the target with the ball.

But you keep telling yourself: three more months. It's worth it!


That my friends is the endless drag from work 'till festival.
Routine...... and then more routine.

Cheers!